The Hybrid
by Morithil
Summary: NOW COMPLETED-Rating may increase for violence. Set somewhere after The Matrix, pre-Reloaded. Smith comes into contact with a rebel fighter who will change everything he's ever known-expect regular updates-this was my FIRST Matrix fanfic-please r&r!
1. The Last Agent Fight

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.

**.HYBRID.**

**1. The Last Agent Fight.**

Persis got the feeling she was being watched. 

She scanned the city skyline, the rooftops, the office blocks, the phone towers. Nothing.

Persis sighed. The sky had turned a lyrical blue around the steel grey clouds on the horizon. It was beautiful. It wasn't real. The Matrix was designed that way, you couldn't let yourself start believing in it again. But it was times like this that she could understand what the first Matrix must have been like, a perfect world, with harmony. And peace. Peace would be great. She knew that any moment now, the alarm would sound and sentinels would be fast approaching her ship, the Antigone. She was half expecting it anyway. Sentinels had been plentiful during the last few weeks. As captain, the least she could do was return to the ship and keep Calyx company. Being an operator must be the hardest thing, she mused, the hardest thing after being me.

Persis waited. Silence, and gradually the gentle hum of traffic. The alarm she had expected didn't sound. She raised her eyebrows fleetingly; well, that made a change. 

A crow darted past her, screeching. 

Persis involuntarily jumped, and though the movement was minute she cursed herself for being nervous. She looked at the bird, perched arrogantly on the lighted HOTEL sign. To big to be a crow. A raven, she thought. Just like in the stories. The bird croaked harshly. Persis briefly smiled. Then her face took on a look of recognition. Past the neon sign stood a figure, motionless. It stood on the far corner of the building next to the one she was on top of. 

An agent.

Persis' mind raced. If she ran-no, the agent was too close and would probably catch up with her. If she called Calyx it would certainly come for her. She stood, statue like. A cool breeze fanned her warm face. The agent just stood. Persis waited. Still nothing. Suddenly the electronic ring of her phone.

Ring. Ring. Persis could've sworn the agent smiled.

She picked it up.

"Sir, get outta there".

Inwardly she smiled. Calyx had always called her "Sir", since he'd joined her ship. He wasn't being funny, he just voiced his respect that way.

"_Sir_".

"I know, Calyx".

"There's an exit ready for you. Its off the four-way on Sunset and Patricola. It's a phone booth....Sir-"

"Yes".

"You'd better start running".

Persis slid the phone back into the pocket of her leather trenchcoat. Unlike most of the unplugged women, her residual self image had taken to the trenchcoat wearing habits of the men. The tail ends of the coat flapped behind her with a liquid grace. Cream leather. Likewise the suede kimono like top and the leather trousers. Gold tinged shades shaped like visors. Persis pulled out her gun and shot repeatedly, running sideways towards the edge of the building. The agent mirrored her actions. Persis dived off the side of the building. 

As if frozen in bullet time she fell, arms curved behind her, swanlike.

Persis threw her legs forwards, flipping her 360º. Twisting her sinuous body at the last moment she faced sideways at the agent falling 20 ft to her left. She fired repeatedly, then turned on her back, spinning at a dizzying speed, back flipping with incredible ease in mid-air as she plummeted down. Anything to avoid the dead aim of an agent's gun. She could visualise the bullet now, hurtling on its path to her heart. Persis shook her head defiantly.

"No".

Emptying her clip at terrifying speed, she took out her second gun from the holster by her left hip. Her trenchcoat spread out under her, giving her the image of having large, shining wings. Persis flipped into her stomach, the street rushing up to meet her. She executed a myriad of flips and turns. Then, as if in slow motion-

Persis cartwheeled forwards in the air. Her feet swept under her and unbelievably, it seemed for a moment that she fell _upwards. _Then, her legs travelled full circle and she landed, crouched, with one knee on the tarmac and her gun ready. The agent noticed and fired. His clip was empty. He landed with a sickening, and yet neutral thud on the ground, as if someone had dropped a large inanimate object from a great height. Persis slowly rose and pulled the trigger at the agent's twisted form. She turned her 

head from the lightning like pulses of green light that crackled over him. The tarmac surface around her feet had fragmented into large shards on her impact. She didn't stop to see who the agent had used as a body. She ran.

Persis ran tirelessly for a countless number of blocks. They passed like a blur of images, a stream of opaque buildings, as if seen through a mesh curtain or a mist. She whipped out her phone.

"Operator."

"Goddamn, sir that was close".

"I know-where's the exit?"

"On your left, down that street-there-the blue phone box".

"I see it".

Persis replaced the phone to her pocket. Yes, the glass and plastic phone booths that dominated the city streets. So many exits. So little time. She sprinted even faster towards the exit. So close-

The agent cooly stepped out from behind a column. With no time to think, Persis leapt into the air and attacked him in full motion, her legs kicking out at his face and upper body with deadly accuracy. He took a swipe at her as she descended. Back flipping, Persis avoided his punch. She knew what being punched by an agent felt like. It was like running into a wall at full tilt. Thank God she still had legs. She could still run. The agent advanced slowly but deadly. Persis ran at him, stabbing her booted feet into his chest as she ran up him, finishing at his shoulders. The agent grabbed at her ankles but she was too good. She'd done this long enough. Placing her right foot on his right shoulder and her left on his other shoulder, Persis shifted her grip to his neck and spun.

In slow motion they rotated, Persis' arms tightly at her side to induce maximum velocity on her spin.

The agent's head twisted and his neck cracked with a mechanical grinding sound. Persis did a perfect break fall and, rising, turned her head back over her shoulder to watch the agent land on the ground. With a certain degree of humour she noticed his tie was crooked. Then the phone in the booth rang. Persis sighed, partly from relief, partly from the effort disposing of the agent had taken her. She stepped forward.

* * * * * * *


	2. The Element Of Surprise

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**2. The Element Of Surprise.**

The agent punched his fists into the concrete and levered himself up in one fluid movement. Though her face was expressionless Persis felt the beginnings of a tight 

knot of fear rising in her throat. She reached for her gun, knowing she did so too slowly. Her index finger tightened on the trigger. The distant phone ringing jangled in her brain. Then-

A shot sounded and the agent fell backwards, a perfect hole in his forehead the size of a pea. Persis blinked.

She hadn't fired the shot.

The sound of a rubber sole on the tarmac behind where she stood lifted her from her reverie. 

"Surprise, Miss. Carlisle, is the most effective form of attack".

Persis turned slowly. Her clip was empty. She had one gun left, and that was in the holster by the small of her back. At the bottom of her spine, covered by her coat. She could feel it tingling. Or maybe that was just her. The speaker, she acknowledged with gradual shock, was another agent. He stood, calmly, his suit perfectly pressed. But then all agents looked like that, pre-battle. She took in his tall frame, brown hair and the regulation shades. There was something different about him that she couldn't put her finger on. It lingered in the back of her thoughts as he spoke again.

"You'll forgive my-"

( he paused as if considering his choice of words...that was ridiculous, agents didn't _choose _words for maximum effect)

"-somewhat _rash_ actions, but I felt that although you would have been more than happy to dispose of my compatriot, you didn't completely have the means to do so".

_Rash. Felt. _Sentient programmes didn't feel, that was something humans did. What was he saying?

He was walking now, slowly, round to where the phone box was. He stood a little to the left of it, a subtle, but nevertheless significant obstacle in her effort to reach it. Persis regarded him warily. There was something about that voice. It was unlike any other agent's she'd heard. Most agents sounded electronic, like the virtual voice of an old computer game. The kind that said, "Game Over". But this one was different. His voice resonated in the simulated air. In a bizarre moment of thought, it reminded her of the voices of news readers in the 1950s-or rather, the years that she'd been informed to call the 1950s. Impersonal, but with a tinge of humanity, and...she could hardly stand to think it..._warmth. _She noticed the street was suddenly deserted. 

"Who might I have the pleasure of disposing next?" she asked, her voice cold and hard, like rain on a stone to her own ears.

The agent smiled. It temporarily disconcerted her, primarily because she had the 

sudden, fleeting urge to smile back.

"A Smith".

Persis did smile. She smiled grimly. Then she realised. _He's not wired in. _That was the difference-unlike all other agents, he was not wearing the ear piece and wire that she had assumed was as necessary to him to function as her gun was to prolong her survival. 

"You're not an agent".

"Correct. Rather, I'm no longer an agent in the sense that I do not answer to programmed instructions other than my own".

"Smith".

"Yes".

She remembered. The last time she had returned to Zion she had overheard the one called Neo talking about Smith in what she could only describe as undertones. Neo was a mystery. He could do things within the Matrix that she'd never seen before. But then, Smith was meant to be destroyed and non-existent. 

"I suppose you mean to kill me".

Smith laughed. It was a slightly husky and disturbingly knowing laugh. Persis felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Miss. Carlisle-"

"My name is Persis".

"I see. I hate to interject this conversation with an obvious statement, but the phone is still ringing".

So it was. She hadn't realised. While Smith had been talking, it seemed as if the street was completely silent. She heard the phone now, urgently ringing, vibrating the air waves as if calling her by name. 

She had to get to the booth.

Smith raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't do that".

She had been reaching imperceptibly for her gun. She withdrew her hand from under her coat. To her mixed surprise and dread, Smith threw his gun casually to the ground. He clicked the knuckles in his hands. Persis relaxed and flung her last hope onto the tarmac. Guns would not help her now. She needed to use every move she knew to get to the booth.

The ringing seemed to get louder.

Back on the Antigone, Calyx gazed anxiously at the screens in front of him. He nervously sipped from a glass of water. 

"Come on, sir", he whispered to the silent screens. Then the alarm sounded. Calyx looked up in recognition. There was no time. Persis had to get out of the Matrix in the next few minutes or they were all Sentinel fodder. From the deck above came sounds of running boots on the metal stairs as the rest of the crew took to the gun turrets. Calyx looked at the red arm of the EMP switch and winced.

Smith came at her like a thunderbolt with a carnal twist to his face, his teeth bared in a grimace. Persis ducked his first two punches, and then spent what seemed like an eternity fighting off his precision-timed blows. She leapt over his head and aimed a powerful side kick at his unprotected back. Smith turned and grabbed her leg in his vice like grip, pressing the flesh near her hip. Persis near blanched-he's going to throw me into the booth-she thought with fearful anticipation. Then-hope.

"NO!!"

The sound ripped from her throat like a tearing curtain. Persis grabbed Smith by the lapels of his jacket and kicked out at his right knee with her free leg. The force of the kick toppled Smith's balance and he fell forward onto her. Now you're on my turf, Persis thought grimly. They tumbled to the ground, but Persis was ready. She curved her back so that she rocked on the tarmac, generating the momentum with her free leg, until she had rolled them both so that she was on top of Smith-her fingers at his throat. She pressed harder. Smith chuckled.

"I'm impressed, Miss. Carlisle".

"Oh I'm just starting", she heard herself say.

Freeing one hand, she repeatedly smashed it into his smug face, driving her fist into his jaw bone while the other tightened round his throat. She wanted to hit him so his skull caved in, which was odd-she'd never got so angry fighting an agent, she 

normally remained as mentally cool and impassive as they did. Then, the unthinkable happened.

"SENTINELS APPROACHING!!" Calyx heard Priest bellow from the top deck.

"JUST GET THE GUNS MANNED!!" he cried back.

"CALYX!"

"WHAT?"

"IS PERSIS OUT YET?"

Calyx looked in desperation at the screens around him. "No", he whispered.

Smith caught her off guard. He kicked out with his leg and, reaching an angle she would have called impossible if she hadn't known better, delivered a stunning blow to her left shoulder blade. Persis cried out at the pain. In a fraction of a second, Smith flipped her over onto her back and all too quickly, _his _hands were at her throat, lifting up until she was held, legs flailing in the air with his knowing grin snarling up at her. Persis felt the air slowly leave her lungs. She struggled, and Smith only tightened his grip. In desperation, she summoned all her remaining strength and executed an almighty kick into his ribcage. Persis thought she saw the air around her leg ripple in rings of molecules as it did around Neo when he fought. No, she reasoned, that's not possible. I can't do that. I can't move _that fast_. 

Smith flew backwards from the force of the kick. Persis dropped to the floor, gagging for oxygen, yes, she thought, even the kind that isn't real. Coughing, she spat blood onto the tarmac. Stumbling, her muscles gasping for air, she made for the booth.

Calyx fought with himself on the Antigone. 

She'll make it, she thought-she's almost at the booth. She'll make it.

Persis opened the door of the phone booth and fell inside.

Three sentinels rushed through the passages of their old service and away stations. The Antigone lay, almost completely defenceless and still broadcasting within one of the chambers. Her signal drew them to her like locusts.

Calyx jumped. The thundering sound within the ship was that of the guns being fired at the sentinels. He heard the metallic clang of the rounds as they hit the machines' hard exterior shells. Come on Sir, he thought, glaring at the screens. Get up.

Persis collapsed in the booth. Her legs had given way. Smith had deprived her of air for too long, her muscles were almost useless, weary from fighting two agents off. 

She reached upwards for the receiver. Behind her, Smith was already back on his feet.

And walking towards her.

"CALYX YOU HAVE TO UNPLUG HER!"

"NO, SHE'S ALMOST THERE!"

"WE CAN'T USE THE EMP!! THE GUNS AREN'T HOLDING OUT- SEEFA'S 

ALREADY DEAD!"

No, Calyx reasoned, not Seefa. Not the youngest. She was just 14 when Persis unplugged her from the Matrix. Seefa was special, her strength and incredible efficiency in manning the tail gun, for one so young. Not Seefa. Not like this.

"No", he heard himself say, as if it was someone else talking,"I can't cut the cord". 'It was true. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Even with Persis lying there, so peaceful, so relaxed as she never was in life. She was always tensed, watchful, alone. He'd be damned if he let her die, alone again, in the Matrix.

"Dammit Calyx, then I'll do it!" Priest came bounding down the stairs with a vengeance. A beam of red laser light ripped through the hull. HULL BREACH! appeared in neon flashing letters on the screen next to Calyx. Priest ran to where Persis lay, and reached for the cord inserted into the back of her head. He would have pulled it out without thinking, if not for the laser that cut him in half as he reached.

* * * * * * *


	3. Human Behaviour

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.

**3. Human Behaviour.**

Smith tore the phone booth's plastic door off and grabbed Persis by the back of her coat collar. Holding onto the receiver as if she realised the full enormity of pressing it to her face, she attached herself to the insides of the booth.

"Miss. Carlisle, you know this is pointless. Why try to delay the inevitable?".

"Nothing's inevitable", Persis whispered in a small voice.

On the Antigone, sentinels cut into the hull, opening up wounds of metal and slipping into the wounded ship like poison. Calyx remained, numb, at his post. He watched like one who does not fully comprehend what he is seeing. And to be fair, he didn't. He was watching Persis die.

Persis fought. Tooth and nail she battled Smith, but he was holding back. He was letting her weaken herself even more. He stood, expressionless, while she swayed slightly in her hopeless but defiant stance, her fists ready. 

"If I were attempting to act like a human, Miss. Carlisle, I would do the gentlemanly thing and offer you the chance to rest and regain your strength _before_ I crushed you. As it stands, I am a programme. Therefore I will not".

"It's too late for that Smith".

A flicker of consternation showed on the normally impassive agent's face.

"You're already acting like a human".

Calyx remained faithful. He remained in his operator's chair, facing the screens with the green codes of the Matrix running down them like tears. He did not remove his earpiece. He did not move from his position. Even if he wanted to, it was too late for him to do anything. He would not move again.

Persis watched Smith charge at her. She ran. 

She ran back into the booth and pressed the receiver to her ear at the same moment he pressed her up against the wall of the booth. For a fleeting second, Persis revelled in his hands pressed on top of hers, crushing her into the wall, while his breath-_his breath?_-blew heat into her ear like the radiation from an open furnace.

A red laser beam passed across the deck on the Antigone, dangerously close to the cord in the back of Persis' head.

Silence.

The sentinels had been unusually sloppy in their disposal of the crew of the Antigone. Although all members onboard were dead, they had only managed to_ partly_ severe the cord connecting Persis to the Matrix. She remained, motionless in the chair, while her crew lay motionless around her. 

Persis gasped as a new sensation gripped her. The Matrix floated before her, blurred and distorted. This wasn't how she normally re-entered the real world. She felt as if she were in two places at once. She saw the ceiling of the Antigone, but it was mauled, seared open. She found herself looking at the roof of the top deck. Why was everything so red?

The receiver in her hand trembled and fell to the floor of the booth.

Persis registered Smith's grip on her slowly loosening. No, she felt like saying. Don't let me go. Keep me anywhere, just let me stay in one place. This hurts-it feels like, I'm being-torn...

Instead of tearing the Antigone to shreds like they had so many other ill-fated ships, the sentinels turned their artificial intelligence to the walls around her, perhaps a 

changed command, perhaps a collective thought. Maybe rumours of the imminent uprising of Zion reached them and they left to join the army surging on the surface. Probing, grasping tentacles of metal broke down the crumbling walls of the sewer chamber, and the Antigone was buried. Submerged under a mountain of rubble. 

Their objective achieved, the sentinels moved on.

Darkness fell over Persis. Darkness engulfed the Antigone in her dreamless sleep.

* * * * * * *


	4. Persephone

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**4. Persephone.**

Voices. Muffled and indistinct, but voices. Still dark, but-warm. Persis dared to think of Smith as her skin acknowledged the heat in her surroundings. She was too tired to care what it meant to think of an agent in that way. Am I dead? She felt the sensation of a face turning to look at her. She thought it replied in the negative before the darkness engulfed her again.

"She's coming round".

"I know, darling".

"Shall I tell her that you have done something wonderful for her?"

"No-she might not take the adjustments I've made too kindly".

"Cheríe, always so modest".

"Hmm-I did what I could with the emotions I drew from her".

"And?"

"Strangely machine orientated. No, not machine-programme".

"Intriguing, you must tell me more later...Persephone, are you coming?"

"Yes darling".

Persephone.

Who was she? What had she done? Why-

The Apollo drew in near the mountain of rubble. Her captain, the battle weary Sol, gazed in a mixture of sadness and curiosity at the tomb of the Antigone.

"This her last known location?"

"Her last broadcast came from here, sir".

Sol sighed. The Antigone was a fine ship, experienced in numerous battles and had been a key part in defending Zion's mainframe from agents and sentinels alike. She was as stoic as her captain, the enigmatic Persis. She of the fathomless eyes and the thousand mile stare. He remembered the last time he saw her at a meeting with the 

Council. Detached, arresting in her beautiful features, the dark tentacles of twisted, black hair reaching down past her shoulders in two thick sets of multiple plaits. To lose such a valuable and able captain, along with her crew and ship, was a tragedy not yet realised in its significance.

"Let's bring her crew home".

"Yes sir".

Persis recalled the fading image of a beautifully painted domed ceiling. An almost exact copy of the Michaelangelo painting depicting God and Adam reaching out, their index fingers touching.

The Apollo scanned the rubble for the heat emissions which would signify the still warm bodies of her crew. Suddenly Sol looked up.

"Sir, there's a weak broadcast coming from the Antigone".

"What?"

"Someone's still hooked into the Matrix. Whoever it is sure isn't dead".

In disbelief Sol consulted the readings. Yes-a pirate signal and a high temperature reading came from the deck of the Antigone. Someone was alive to tell the story of its final broadcast. There was hope yet.

Persis woke up on the hard shoulder of a freeway. As her eyes adjusted to the surroundings, she stared at the lanes next to her, the cars rushing past. She stood up. Scanning her location she noticed a dark limousine pull away from the hard shoulder some feet away from her. There were two figures in the back. Squinting to pierce the tinted windows, Persis thought she saw a face framed by dark, lustrous hair. A beautiful face. But one that she was not entirely sure she liked. She reached for her phone.

"Operator".

Silence. Then, a faint humming.

"Calyx".

What had happened on the Antigone? Persis exhaled in exasperation. Looking upwards, she espied a multilevel apartment building on the side of the freeway. She braced herself for the jump.

"How is she?"

"Stable. We've yet to find an exit for her-its becoming near impossible to get a lock on her, the broadcast is so weak".

Sol looked down at the sculptural figure of Persis. She was still in the Matrix. They had spent hours pulling her from the remains of her ship, painstakingly duplicating the transmission from the Antigone's computer on theirs, fusing the cord, thus wiring her up on the deck of the Apollo . Now they had to pull her back into the real world.

Persis jumped. Or rather, she shot into the sky before sailing, like winged seraph, her 

coat tails fluttering out behind her, onto the roof of the building. Breathless and shocked by this new development in her powers within the Matrix, she fell to her knees among the shards of broken tile around her. What had happened? She had been in the Matrix for some time-where were the agents? They would have had her location by now, surely. Why did no-one know she was here? She gazed at the turquoise blue sky and white clouds. A beautiful day. But somehow frighteningly empty.

Smith pulled up in a black sedan onto the hard shoulder of the freeway. He was-piqued-if such a thing were possible, at the events following his fight with Persis. But then Smith had always known he was different, there was something fundamentally wrong in the way he acted and how his train of consciousness worked. Jones and Brown did not comprehend this, naturally. They were puzzled at his adherence to working alone. It defied all sentient programming codes. But back to the human. She had flickered in the booth, half in the Matrix, half out, and then she had collapsed, somewhat unexpectedly, into his indifferent arms, devoid of any signs of life. Suddenly, Smith felt a slight hum in his head. That was normally the signal of another agent being in the vicinity. Even without being wired in he had developed his abilities and retained this locative device. He scanned the freeway. Nothing. Then he looked up. High on the roof of an apartment building crouched a figure. Her dark hair and cream outline contrasted sharply with the blue sky. It was Persis, but why-

Persis got to her feet. Her mind was in turmoil. Who the hell was Persephone, why had she done this shit to her and why was she so-so_ alone_? This was a new sensation to Persis, she who was always solitary and relished the comfort of her own company, 

suddenly felt the dead aching of being alone. She felt cut off. Strangely accurate, considering the events on the Antigone. Then, as if a tiny alarm bell went off in her head and hummed into her brain, she felt the presence of an agent.

"Smith".

"-Yes".

The agent looked curious, puzzled even at her statement, made without turning 

around or hesitating, as most of these humans did. How did she know? Why had he registered her as an agent? An anomaly in his programming, surely..but that was what Jones and Brown would have said about his other somewhat undesirable characteristics..was this-real? Was the human an agent? Impossible-

"You've come to finish me off properly this time, then".

Smith considered this suggestion. "I don't-"

"_You don't_-", Persis blurted.

She could've sworn that Smith looked embarrassed. However, the agent soon recovered and resumed his normal dispassionate exterior. 

"Something has changed about you, Miss. Carlisle".

Persis blinked, startled. So he had noticed it too. How did Smith know? What had he seen happen to her in the phone booth?

"I had come to the same conclusion, oddly enough".

Smith considered the possibilities. Something exceptionally complex had happened to the human's genetic make-up. He adjusted his shades and peered at her through the dark lenses. Yes-she was _not only human_. She had changed-she was part human, that much was true-but running intertwined with the vessels in her bloodstream (signified by the streams of green Matrix characters) were the definite streams of the code that his own structure and programme consisted of. She was his alter-ego, his equal, his female counterpart, completely-if not for the fact that she was still-and it made him blink in wonder to think of it-still part human. Still hooked into the Matrix via her ship's computer. Still vulnerable. Strange though it was, Smith had the sudden hankering to press her against him, moulding her to him; his half-twin, his-

"What's happened to me?"

Smith looked at her questioningly. Of course she could not comprehend the full extent of the changes in her very being. He decided to show her.

"Miss. Carlisle, you intrigue me".

"Does that mean you don't know-", and here her eyes narrowed,"-or that you won't kill me?"

Smith walked slowly towards her. She stepped back, tensing her frame, preparing to defend herself, though she didn't raise an arm or shift her stance. In an odd way, it 

endeared her to him-although-and he shook the sensation off dismissively-that was impossible.

"Sir, we got trouble".

Sol strode over to the screens.

"An agent".

"Yes. We still haven't pinpointed her exact location, but he's definitely in the same area".

"Get her out of there as quickly as possible"

Sol knitted his brows. This was harder than he had thought.

"You have become unique, Miss. Carlisle, if such a thing is possible within such a perfectly constructed simulation as the Matrix".

"What do you mean?" Persis watched him, slightly turning her head to follow him as he paced frustratingly slowly around her, examining her, occasionally tilting his head to study a particular part of her body. It was a distracting sensation, having Smith take in her features so neutrally.

"You have become a most peculiar.._hybrid". _

* * * * * * *


	5. Back To The Real World

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo. ****

**5. Back To The Real World.**

Persis worried that the fear in her face showed.

"That's not possible, I-"

"Not possible? Miss. Carlisle, how do you then account for my presence here?" Smith wryly asked, his eyebrows raised.

Taken by his confidence in his diagnosis, Persis did not realise that Smith had taken her hand in his own cool, smooth palm.

"Look at your palm, Miss. Carlisle".

"I don't see anything. Just the Matrix code". Being in such close quarters with an agent and not fighting him made the knot in her throat rise higher. Persis shook her head.

"I don't see anything".

Smith sighed like a parent trying to teach a difficult child the right way to do something.

Reaching up with his other hand, he removed her sunglasses from her face, his fingertips brushing the smooth line of her cheekbone as he did so. Persis shuddered inwardly at the gentle, restrained movement. She briefly closed her eyes.

Smith slipped the sunglasses into his breast pocket.

Persis opened her eyes.

"Look harder".

Persis gazed at her hand. She saw the green strands of the Matrix code, the lines of numbers and characters that made up her vessels, her skin, her bone, her-

And then she saw them. The thousands of green characters tipped with white, the codes she recognised from the screens on the Antigone as those of a sentient programme flowing side by side with her own characters. She was half agent. She was like Smith. She was not a complete human. No. NO. NO. NO THIS WASN'T RIGHT! she inwardly screamed.

"This isn't true". Though she spoke calmly, he saw the look in her eyes that he recognised as turmoil. Still so painfully human.

"Neither was your perception of reality, Miss. Carlisle, until you were unplugged".

It was all too true. Persis' expression took on an air of resigned recognition. She sighed.

"How-"

"That, Miss. Carlisle, is something that I would also be interested to know".

Persis looked up at Smith's face. She couldn't read his true expression as his eyes were shielded by his dark glasses. At first hesitantly, then with a coolness and purposeful manner that quite defeated him, she reached for his face with her free hand and closed her fingers around one of the arms of his shades.

Smith involuntarily inhaled. The intake of air reverberated in the space between them.

Noticing his reaction, Persis was emboldened, and slowly drew the glasses from his face, letting them fall on the roof beneath their feet with a slight clatter.

Persis looked at Smith.

Persis looked _into _him. 

She looked into those hard, blue eyes. She looked for something of herself, and found a shadow of it, beyond the mercenary stare and his neutral gaze. She sighed, the sound drawn from her in a shuddering breath.

Smith was unnerved by the intense searching look in those dark eyes, so dark he 

could hardly see the pupils. Something had clicked in him-a connection had fired between them that was almost...chemical.

The girl and the agent stood frozen. So close. So dangerously close.

Sol paced the deck of the Apollo impatiently.

"How much longer?"

"Just over a minute or so, Sir-we've almost got a lock on her".

Smith fought the impulse to press Persis' other hand in his, fusing her to him, palm to palm. He could easily join her to him, forming another Agent Smith and taking her over, making her another clone of himself. But that was the trouble-she was already part him. She was part sentient programme. She shared his exact construct, his outline, his figuration, his-anomalies. He felt her hand grow warmer in his own. He envisioned cloning her into himself, plunging his hand deep into her torso and letting the black and green liquid like formation pour over her. Then his features would envelop hers. But something was stopping him from reaching into her coat and through the material of her kimono. Smith didn't like it, didn't like this itching in the back of his head. So he lashed out.

Persis bent backwards in a fraction of a second. Smith's fist swung in a perfect arc over her, centimetres from her face. She threw her arms back and, springing on her palms, kicked him in the jaw as she flipped backwards. Smith drew out his gun and fired twice. Persis dodged the bullets easily, feeling a curious feeling as she did so, as if she saw the bullets travelling from a dozen different angles. Smith looked on as she bent in all angles simultaneously, just as he was capable of doing. She had inherited the most striking aspect of all agents; the ability to dodge rapidly fired bullets. Smith chuckled in spite of himself, throwing away his gun as he did so.

"Congratulations, Miss. Carlisle; you've managed to impress me again".

"I don't want to impress you, Smith".

"Hm".

Sol tapped his foot in anticipation. The crew of the Apollo were almost as eager as he was-it was dangerous work, broadcasting so near to the Antigone's wreck, so near to where sentinels had been raging just hours before.

"Almost there, Sir".

"Good work".

Persis flew off the roof, going through a blistering array of taught, precision-perfect 

positions before landing on the sidewalk on the other side of the building, the slabs of concrete cracked into shards around her. The quiet suburb was peaceful and warm. She could hear children laughing from a house in another street. 

Smith shot down to meet her.

"Establishing location in 3, 2..1.."

The Apollo herself seemed to hold her breath and wait.

Punch, block, punch. The endless cycle of moves that Persis and Smith went through in their carefully orchestrated, almost balletic fight dazzled the eye. Their fists blurred in cycles of concentric knuckles, white and rock hard. They fought, gradually making their way down the quiet street, undisturbed by the inhabitants of the endless houses.

"Preparing an exit right there, sir. The house on the corner with the green door".

Persis leapt into the air, and spun on her stomach like a human discus at Smith's head. He blocked her onslaught with his iron like arms and, grabbing her ankles, threw her into the front garden of the house on the corner of the street. Persis 

scrambled up and stood on the tame, freshly cut lawn. The sprinklers switched on, framing her in sprays of clear water droplets.

"We've got her, Captain. We're opening the exit now".

From within the house the dim ringing of a phone was heard. Persis crashed through the window head first, rolled across the front room carpet and rose up in front of the ringing phone on the side table, picking the receiver up. Smith stood in the shards of broken glass. Persis looked at him. He walked slowly over and stopped, inches from 

her. Persis felt her hand move up from her side and reach for him again. Her hand paused in front of his chest. She felt a rush of power and information flood to her fingertips. Smith leaned in closer. Persis' fingertips grazed the fibre of his shirt. She pressed the receiver to her ear because she knew she had to-not because she wanted to.

"Bring her out, Titus".

"Yes sir".

Titus reached his muscular arm under Persis' head and, pressing the clamp, pulled the switch out, the long metal needle emerging from the top of her spine smoothly, in one fluid movement, rubbing against the metal around the orifice as it did so. Persis 

opened her eyes, gasping, like one awaking from a dream in which she had been drowning, the sounds of her harsh, quick breathing tearing the quiet of the Apollo.

A blinding light at first.The deck of a ship. A ship. She was back. 

* * * * * * *


	6. Temporary Revenge

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**6. Temporary Revenge.**

Unfamiliar faces. Then, one she vaguely recognised. His name formed on her previously motionless lips.

"Captain Sol".

"Yes".

He looked concerned. He sat down in the chair next to the bunk where she lay, clasping his hands together.

"How do you feel?"

"Corrupted".

"What do you mean?"

Persis sighed. This was not the time to discuss the recent changes in her. Sol recognised her unwillingness to elaborate her comment, and sat back in the chair.

"She's gone isn't she".

Despite himself he marvelled at the calmness with which she admitted to the loss. She had lost a ship, her entire crew was dead and yet the cool look of resignation in her face (for he couldn't read her eyes in the dim light) was remarkable.

"Yes, I'm afraid it's true. The Antigone was attacked by sentinels, we assume while 

you were plugged in to the Matrix. Despite the imminent threat to all your lives, no-one disconnected you to allow the ship to defend herself. Your crew waited for you, Persis. That's the kind of loyalty that only a true and respected captain could win from her crew."

Persis closed her eyes. Oh, Calyx, she thought. Why didn't you just disconnect me when Smith appeared, you could have been on your way back to Zion by now, you talked so much about how you missed home. Seefa too-so young, so painfully young. And Priest, Aei, the others. All gone, all sentinel fodder now.

"You're on the Apollo. We had to bring you and the cord connecting you to your computer onboard, along with the computer. We duplicated the transmission 

because your broadcast was so weak. Then we established your location and set up an exit, hoping you'd take it. You've been onboard now for some days".

Persis shifted on the slim bed, lying on her side, her head raised up on one arm. 

"The broadcast-something happened to the signal-the sentinels-"

He paused, allowing her to work it out herself. The silence between them grew, with only the metal interjections of the ship rattling at intervals.

"-the sentinels damaged the connection, but not completely".

"Yes".

"You have to send me back".

Sol was surprised to say the least. "Captain Persis, you've only been out for a few hours, another entrance so soon could do you harm-and the agents-"

"There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"I strongly encourage you to stay here for a while longer-the area is riddled with agents".

"How many?"

"Three".

Persis smiled knowingly. There was a time to sit and mourn her ship and her crew, and there was a time to do their memory justice by enacting some small personal revenge on the sentient programmes. This was the time. She muttered her crew's names under her breath. This is for you, she thought, for your loyalty and your courage.

"Captain, this has fast become a personal matter for me".

"Captain, I understand how you must feel-"

"How?"

Sol was stumped for an answer. His silence admitted it.

"You still have your crew, Captain, your crew are still alive, you still have everything that you worked and fought for after being unplugged. I have nothing left. You cannot begin to comprehend how I feel."

Grudgingly, Sol accepted that Persis was right. He could not begin to understand the depth of such a personal loss.

She noticed his look of anxiety. She placed her hand on top of his. Sol looked up a the small gesture.

"I need to do this for the Antigone, for my crew. I need to have some sort of purpose now. I'll be fine. You have my word on that. Now let me back in".

Persis lay back in the chair and relaxed. The co-pilot, whose name was Titus (that much she had gathered from the crew) picked up the clamp with its metal needle. The familiar whir of the computers was like balm on Persis' heated mind.

"Good luck in there, Captain Persis".

She glanced toward his honest face.

"Thank you, Titus".

* * * * * * *

The street zoomed up to meet her, just as it had done when she had dived from the skyscraper. The memory seemed like something from a distant dream. Persis looked around. No agents yet. She walked purposefully down the street, passing people going about their non-existent lives. So many minds still to be unplugged. As long as they were ready. She had been ready. She had taken the red pill without a second thought, knowing the enormity of what she was doing. At times she thought she had understood the Matrix_ before _she had been unplugged. But that was long ago. 

She halted on the corner of the street. And waited. 

Sol looked at the screens on the Apollo. He saw Persis' lone figure standing, 

unmoving in the street, determination radiating from her rooted stance.

"Any agents yet?"

"Fast approaching, sir".

Persis looked to her left. An agent appeared from behind a street stall. Another, she noticed with dark satisfaction, came out from a building across the street. Finally, the third she had been waiting for emerged some feet in front of her. 

"Glad you could make it".

Persis darted into the alleyway next to her, the agents in hot pursuit. It ended in a deserted courtyard, fire escapes climbing the farthest wall, scaffolding breaching the one opposite. The agents ran into the courtyard, looking around for her.

The courtyard was deserted. 

Not a whisper echoed in the stillness. The agents lowered their guns simultaneously, an unholy triad, pressing their ear pieces closer as if to hear more information.

Persis came out of nowhere like a malignant ghost.

Or to be truthful, she had balanced, using her hands, on a pole of scaffolding that was clamped to opposite sides of the wall, far above the agents' heads, her legs pointing straight upwards. Then, swinging on the pole with the grace and ease of a gymnast, she had launched herself into the air.

She emerged as if from nowhere, launching a spin kick as she descended. The agents drew their guns up simultaneously and fired repeatedly.

Persis flipped forwards, then twisted her body so that she spun sideways, anti-clockwise, then clockwise. The bullets sped past her and hit the back wall of the courtyard. Persis landed silently and gracefully on the ground, on the tips of her toes. Then she relaxed, her heels lowering. She stood for a moment and then adopted a fighting stance as all three agents approached to attack.

"Sir, does she know what she's doing?"

Sol looked at the screens. "I hope so".

Persis watched them surround her. Using the first agent as a spring board, she launched herself at the other two, throwing her legs over her head and kicking them 

both square in the chest. While they staggered back, she turned quickly and executed a set combination of kicks at the first agent. High kick into his jaw, a side kick into 

his side, and lifting momentarily into mid-air, rotated her body and landed a third spin kick into his face. As he fell back from the force of the blows, she drew out her gun and pushing him down onto the floor, fired point blank, the gun pressed to his temple. She rolled off him as the crackles of green lightning enveloped him and ran to the remaining agents. Persis revelled in her enhanced speed. Sprinting to them, she seemed to run _on the air _before passing over their heads and, dodging their fire, appeared behind them and grasping their necks, threw them backwards over her shoulders, her face tightened into a grimace. Back flipping, she landed inbetween them, and as they rose up again, drew out her second gun, and dropping on one knee, 

dispatched two bullets into both their heads, the green crackles of lighting reflecting off the shiny texture of her coat.

Sol's jaw dropped slightly.

"Goddamn-that was something else", Titus exploded.

"Is there an exit nearby?" Sol asked.

"Yep".

"Give her a call".

"Yes sir".

Ring.

Persis flipped out her phone.

"Yes".

"We've got an exit for you-its on the third floor apartment-you can reach it by the fire escape".

"Thanks".

Persis looked up at the black rails of stairs and sighed. She was avenged, the Antigone and her crew were avenged. She had been a shock to the system, literally, and had surprised the agents as well as herself. She hoped her abilities would develop. She was avenged. For the moment. The agents would be back.

She took one last look at the courtyard. Then she jumped. Three floors high in a matter of seconds. Landing on the bannister of the fire escape, she wound her way around the steps and, kicking a window in, levered herself into the apartment.

The phone was ringing.

Persis walked across the room with the broken shards of glass sprinkling the carpet and halted.

Next to the phone lay a pair of sunglasses. Gold tinted. Visor-like. Hers.

She hadn't notice that she wasn't wearing any this time. Persis looked around the apartment. it was silent. Then she noticed the front door was open. She ran to it and leaned out into the corridor. The lift at the end gave a pinging sound as it travelled down the floors.

Smith.

Persis re-entered the apartment.

She put the sunglasses on and picked the phone up.

* * * * * * *


	7. The Kiss

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**7. The Kiss.**

Persis exhaled slowly as she sat up. Titus and Sol stood, both of them with their arms folded, looking at her with a mixture of shock and respect. Persis slid off the seat, bemused at their reaction.

"I told you I'd be fine".

"You didn't tell me you could do that", Sol muttered, almost accusingly.

Persis shook her head.

"I knew you wouldn't understand if I told you. I thought that letting me back in the Matrix would prove two things at once".

"How did you learn to do that? You moved faster than the agents-and there were three of them. How did you become so fast?".

Persis saluted Sol as she made her way back to her cabin.

"Persephone".

Sol looked questioningly at Titus. He shook his head and unfolded his powerful arms as he spoke.

"Don't look at me, sir, I just spent the last five minutes with my mouth open".

Some way up the corridor, Persis smiled. 

* * * * * * *

Smith walked down the corridor, his computer produced mind working like a finely tuned engine. He hadn't wanted to see the human again. Not after the last time she had looked at him and sent his complex equilibrium into near chaos. What was wrong with him? His body temperature, normally cool and equal to that of the area around him was at least 5º higher than it should be. And there was a breeze blowing. He had placed the human's sunglasses in his pocket-why? 

Smith was worried. But he was also excited, in a passive, electronic way. He considered the possibilities of the girl entering the Matrix again. He had watched her fight the three agents. They had been upgrades, the new versions of the sentient programme. And still no match for her. He inadvertently smiled with a curious sense of...pride. Some part of him had been imprinted onto Persis while they had been crushed together in the booth, that much had become obvious. Not all of his composition, admittedly, but enough to render her almost as powerful as...himself. The difference was that she lacked the singularity of purpose that he had. 

He decided to conduct a little experiment the next time she plugged in.

Smith smiled his self-assured smile. 

Surprise, he thought, was the most effective form of attack.

* * * * * * *

Persis was exercising her body in an effort to prevent herself thinking about fighting Smith. She was suspended above her bunk, her legs bent round the metal pole in the ceiling while she did sit ups, her hands held firmly behind her head as she drew her chin up to her knees. She could hear only two things; her breathing and the sound of her heart pumping. She could see only one thing.

Smith.

Goddamn the machines, she thought viciously. Who the hell instructed them to design agents so...there was the rub. It wasn't agents that she'd been thinking about; it had been _an_ agent. Singular. Very singular. 

Persis increased the speed of her sit ups. Her breathing dragged. Sweat gathered in the hollow of flesh behind her knees. They slowly slid from the pole. She increased her speed even more. 

It hurt. It hurt when he hit her. It hurt like someone hit her with a crowbar. One with knuckles and a warmth in his voice barely detectable-no, shut up Persis what are you 

thinking why are you so psyched up about Smith? He's just an agent, a sentient 

programme he's not real nothing is real you should know that more than anyone everything that was real you've just lost and now you're getting fucking heart palpitations over someone that is unable to feel-something, someTHING THING HE ISN'T A PERSON HE ISN'T A PERSON HE'S A KILLER WHAT KIND OF TRAITOR ARE YOU PERSIS HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN CALYX HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN PRIEST AEI SEEFA HE'S A KILLER A KILLER AND SO ARE YOU SO ARE YOU PERSIS YOU'RE THE SAME AS EACH OTHER EVEN MORE SO NOW YOU'RE A KILLER YOU MURDERED YOUR CREW YOU BURIED THE ANTIGONE CAPTAIN PERSIS SMITH IS YOUR EQUAL YOU'RE PART OF HIM 

BOTH OF YOU YOU'RE LIKE TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN JUST ADMIT IT PERSIS YOU LIKE HIM YOU THINK HE'S SOMETHING MORE THAN A MACHINE YOU THINK HE'S SPECIAL DIFFERENT YOU WANT TO FIGHT HIM AGAIN BECAUSE IT MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE IT MAKES YOU FEEL THAT YOU'RE NOT ALONE-

Persis slipped from the pole and landed unceremoniously on her bed, panting heavily and thinking wildly. She calmed down as the sound of the lights being turned off on the Apollo interrupted her thoughts.

She lay on her side in a foetus like position. She studied the metal bolts in her arms, running her fingertips over the cold surfaces. I'm not completely human. We're all part machine. All of the freed minds are. 

The fleeting image of Smith's face made her knit her brows in contemplation.

His eyes. They were so almost human it make her shudder to think of them. He had faltered then, he had hesitated at her touch and at her look. Smith _was_ different. He wasn't like other agents. She wasn't like other humans. She had made him pause, she had made him react differently. He hadn't killed her because he didn't want to. He didn't _want_ to. Smith had developed the capacity to want something. Because of her? Maybe. It was certainly a possibility. She had affected him. If part of Smith could be imprinted on her, then part of her could be imprinted onto him, couldn't it? 

Could she make Smith _feel? _

Persis fell asleep clutching at her blanket in her dreams of falling. Always falling.

She decided to conduct an experiment of her own.

* * * * * * *

It was some weeks later.

The sky had turned grey and overcast, the clouds a sulky hue the colour of gun metal. Persis breathed the simulated air. It would soon rain, she thought, gazing at the heavy formations on the horizon. She glanced at the package in her hand. She needed to get to the drop-off point. Zion needed to be warned. Sentinel activity had been picked up all too close to the fifth junction, one of the nearest passages in terms of distance from the perimeters of Zion's defences. Persis jumped from rooftop to rooftop as spots of rain began to fall. 

She slid down the fire escape of one of the buildings and landed on street level. Espying the post box she ran towards it and inserted the package into the blue metal mouth, hearing it land on top of a mass of paper. Letters no-one really wrote. The thought of it made her suddenly sad. It wasn't fair, she mused, but yet it was darkly ironic that humanity had created the means to its own demise. Sighing, Persis walked down the street. It was then she noticed Smith, pausing in front of the government building off the main street. He looked at her before entering through the rotating doors. Persis ran across the street, passing oncoming cars as she did so.

Smith heard the car horns as he approached the lift. It's working, he smiled to himself. She's following me. He pressed the button on the side of the wall.

Persis emerged from the rotating doors, droplets of water running off her coat and the rims of her shades. She saw him standing by the lift at the end of the marble floored hallway. The security guards looked at her suspiciously, before glancing at Smith. He nodded wordlessly. Persis strode over to him and stood next to him waiting for the lift, silently. 

The lift doors parted.

Smith gestured with his hand. When she didn't move, he went in and stood, his hands clasped behind his back. Persis then stepped inside and did likewise. 

The lift doors closed.

Smith spoke as the lift shifted into motion.

"As you can see, I've decided to take your matter further".

"To other agents?" Persis became fearful. She knew of the torture sessions that agents performed to extract information from their prisoners. Was she wrong? Was Smith using her to get the codes to Zion's mainframe?

Smith turned his head a fraction towards her without looking at her, " No. I've decided to investigate the matter further myself."

He noticed the look of mild confusion in the girl's face.

"Don't be alarmed, Miss. Carlisle, I'm not going to attempt to kill you. You're far too interesting to me".

"I'm flattered by your interest in me".

Smith didn't have an answer to this. He simply nodded his head in reply. The lift doors opened to reveal the outside of an office door. Smith stepped out, and opening the door, beckoned her in.

Back outside the building, agents had picked up Persis' signal as one of their own. Instructed to group together to formulate new strategies, they travelled from the far corners of the city to the government building, growing ever closer with each minute.

It was a spacious room. The farthest wall was all glass, giving the inhabitant a spectacular view of the city skyline. The carpet was taupe. The walls a bland grey. A simple desk. A metal chair. A metal cabinet similar to a locker. A small table. 

So this was where agents brought their prospective informants.

Persis set up a communications block around the room without thinking. The picture on the screens of the Apollo blurred and flickered. She didn't want Sol and Titus seeing the events of the next few minutes.

"Have a seat, Miss. Carlisle".

She glanced at the metal chair. 

"I'd prefer to stand".

Smith crossed to the table and leaned on it, his hands on the edge of the wood, looking disturbingly relaxed and almost casual.

"But your sunglasses, Miss. Carlisle, your coat; you're drenched. Shouldn't you remove them? You might contract _a cold_".

When she was younger and her mind was still slave to the Matrix, Persis thought with a tinge of irony, and a guy had said those words to her; she'd have mentally accused him of finding a petty reason for her to remain in a state of undress. But with 

Smith it was different-she wasn't sure how-it just was. She decided to humour him. Better make him confident in himself before she tried _her_ experiment.

She took her sunglasses off and placed them on the desk. She slipped the trench coat off her shoulders, folded it in half and placed it on the back of the chair. Droplets of water trickled off it onto the chair.

She stood there like an alabaster statue in her kimono like top and slick leather trousers. 

Smith rose from his position and took gradual steps towards her.

"I have come to the conclusion that contact with me has imprinted certain features onto you. That combined with the inefficient connection you had to the Matrix resulted in your becoming a fusion of two very opposing natures".

Persis considered this. It fitted hers and Sol's diagnostics of what had happened to her. She accepted it as truth.

"However, this does not explain your continued existence outside the Matrix. Therefore, I have decided that contact must be made again to determine the full 

extent of this-imprint, this -transaction.".

Smith concentrated. He needed to determine how much of a danger the girl could be with her enhanced abilities within the Matrix. He needed more information to conclude what process had taken place which had enabled her to live as human and semi-agent, in and out of the Matrix. And yes, he admitted to himself, he wanted to see how this prolonged contact would affect her. 

Persis regarded Smith with something akin to suspicion and a hint of expectation. She needed to work the situation to her advantage if she wanted to surmise the power she had on Smith's reactions, his equilibrium, damned impassive agent that he was.

Smith was close now. So close she could feel his breath on her face. She restrained herself from inhaling the warm, mildly plastic scent.

"This won't hurt", Smith practically purred.

He removed his glasses and placed them on the desk near hers. Then he brought her hand up in his, and clasped the two together. Their fingers intertwined. Persis could feel the tingling sensation in her fingertips that she'd felt before on the roof of the apartment building.

Smith looked at her and pressed his palm closer to hers.

Persis reduced her eyes to slits to watch his expression.

Then, as if on impulse, a sensation washed over her like a cold wave on a warm beach. Like a spray of droplets it rushed through every part of her being. She could feel Smith searching for the answer to his question, the solution. 

Smith marvelled. Such a complex procedure, this fusion of human and machine, almost every molecule of her conjoined with one identical to his. Another programme was behind this, he concluded. He looked at Persis, trying to read her. He studied her face. By accessing the numerous databases on every aspect of the human psyche, he concluded that by those standards that the girl was unusually beautiful. He examined her features; eyes, nose, skin, hair, before alighting on her mouth. He had never explored the sensation of a human's mouth. Skin, yes, during his many battles with numerous rebels he had made contact that way. But not in the intimate, prolonged fashion that humans had christened a kiss. He narrowed his eyes at the prospect. He could access simulations of the action, yes, and experience a machine's interpretation of the emotional feeling. But how did machines know what a kiss felt like? He could not envisage his contemporaries engaging in similar activity, so how did they know? And he desperately wanted to know if and how the human would respond-in the same way that the databases read if she found the experience pleasurable? How would the machines know the extent of these details? Smith did not yet appreciate the extent to which these sentiments were alike to every human's thoughts regarding the machines. How _did_ they know?

Persis acknowledged his face drawing nearer to hers. He's experimenting too, she thought wryly, but he actually wants to find out what a human feels like, he wants to touch me.

Their hands were still clasped together. Persis noticed with a strange thrill, that Smith's hand was growing warmer.

She parted her lips slightly for the kiss. Smith leaned in and pressed gently with his mouth. Persis revelled in the touch-keep a hold of yourself, she thought-now's the time to find out if Smith is different, if he _is_ becoming more human. She moved her mouth sideways to make him respond.

Smith did. Accessing the information he needed to carry out the kiss, he slipped his tongue into Persis' mouth. It was as warm and moist as he anticipated, and strangely familiar. The kiss built up. The two leant in closer to each other. Smith's arm curved around her waist in his vice-like grip.

Persis released some of the pent up tension in her mind by kissing back, subtly sliding her tongue along his. Smith was warm, with a taste like a peculiar mixture of 

plastic and metal that was not wholly unpleasant. She accidentally exhaled in pleasure.

Acknowledging her reaction, Smith continued with his exploration of her mouth, caressing her lips and then covering her mouth in his, seeking to increase the sensation she was experiencing. To his horror and yet excitement, _he_ lightly gasped at the sensation of Persis' mouth moving under his. Was this pleasure? He searched the database to see if it was possible that he could feel it. No available entries.

Persis pulled away to find a smouldering look in Smith's hard, blue eyes.

Smith was still in shock, but now he was angry. Angry with himself for letting that gasp out. Angry at the girl for instilling that feeling in him, that aching. He stepped 

back, and releasing her hand, plunged his own into her torso and let forth the beginnings of the cloning process he had developed not so long ago.

Persis let out a small cry, throwing her head back. The pain was almost unbearable, numbing in its intensity. Smith's hand was embedded into her chest, a black, moving liquid like substance covering her body, green Matrix characters flowing within it. It was a paralysing experience. Persis felt almost frozen to the ground, feeling herself give in to the process. It was a horrifying pain.

It felt like dying.

She cried out as the substance reached her neck. Then, grasping Smith's wrist, she fought the spreading liquid like substance and tried to pull his hand out of her.

Smith grimaced as she slowly tore his hand out of her torso. Surprised by her strength and her growing will to stop him, he relaxed and watched her recover, his hand now completely out of her skin. He let it fall to his side, not knowing why he did so..not having a reason perturbed him. He felt a hollow, dark sensation that the databases had described as an emotion..it was guilt. Smith shook his head slowly. What was happening to him?

Persis opened her eyes. They blazed in fury at Smith. She noticed he looked almost troubled by his action. Gritting her teeth she decided to try to reciprocate the gesture and thrust her right hand into his chest.

Smith blinked slowly. He looked down at her hand, lodged up to the wrist in his body. He saw the similar liquid like substance flowing from her hand, only it was all 

streams of figures, no black substance with it, just stream upon stream of codes. He felt them penetrate his structure and recognised them as the codes that Persis consisted of. No, he thought, she can't be doing this. She can't imprint herself onto me, its not-

"Possible?" Persis whispered. Drawing closer to him, she pressed her cheek to his as he shuddered, the streams from her hand flowing up to his neck. 

"You can feel what its like, the torture of being trapped here, Smith. But then you've always felt it, haven't you-but _now you can feel me like I can feel you and you'll want to see me again Smith. You'll want to. Because now there's an emotion present that you can feel _."

Smith heard this thought reverberate in his head. Persis pulled her hand out. Smith looked at her, half aghast, half longingly. She could barely pull herself away from him, but she grabbed the metal chair and threw it at the window. The glass shattered 

and a gaping hole stared out at the city. Persis yanked her phone out of the coat on the floor, and without looking back-which hurt her more than she'd expected-she dived straight out of the window and shot down to the street below.

Hitting the ground running, she called the Apollo for the nearest exit.

Smith blinked. Walking over to the window, he espied the tiny figure of Persis in the street below. He watched her leap from street to street, finally running into a tv repair shop and disappearing from view.

He turned back. Her coat lay forgotten on the floor. He picked it up, rubbing its smooth texture between his thumb and index finger. He felt himself grow frustrated. Seizing a sleeve of the garment, he tore it violently in half, letting the two shreds drop to the floor. Grabbing Persis' sunglasses, he crushed them in his palm, the cracking sound amplified by the silence. He felt disgusted with himself and yet invigorated. He threw the pieces in the bin next to the desk. 

He was changed. He hated the human. He hated her. He wanted to tear her in two like the coat, to crush her in his hands-he had felt the complex and varied emotions in her when she'd showed them to him and the anomaly within him began fashioning new codes in his construct with the ability to reciprocate one of them-he wanted to see her again yes again he wanted her he wanted her-

HE _WANTED_ PERSIS.

The door opened and Jones and Brown stepped in. Smith looked up, his face contorted in a snarl.

"What have you been doing?" Jones blandly asked.

Smith looked away, choking back what was vaguely recognisable as the beginnings of a sob.

"What is wrong?"

Smith glanced at them, their heads tilted in incomprehension. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. But in the strangest juxtaposition, one he was quite defeated by, it was also very right.

* * * * * * *


	8. Liking It

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**8. Liking It.**

Persis watched on the Apollo with a small degree of satisfaction. Smith was understandably unnerved by the emotion she'd displayed in his construct. Want. Yes, that was what she had shown him. To ability to want something. She'd played with the anomalies in him and developed the barely concealed ability to want in him. 

She'd made Smith able to feel an emotion.

She realised that Smith had given her purpose. After years of going through life in the real world aimlessly, she had real reasons for living, for entering the Matrix. 

Exhaling slowly, she made her way back her cabin. Time, she thought, would only tell if Smith would respond to the want_ she_ had. How strange, how strange that the only thing she had truly connected to was a machine, a sentient programme, and that was even before she had undergone the drastic transformation.

She realised that imprinting part of herself onto him had drained her. Wearily, she sank into her bunk and began to dream. 

She could still taste him on her tongue. That strangely comforting plastic/metallic taste. Her mouth missed it already.

Persis realised that she liked it.

* * * * * * *

Neso, the Apollo's operator, swung round to face her. Persis leaned, comfortable, at ease on the arm of the seat. Neso cleared his throat.

Persis looked at him. "D'you mind if I try out a sparring programme?"

Neso grinned. "_You_ think you need training?"

Persis grinned back. "I've spent too much time in the Matrix. I need a good old-fashioned sparring programme to sink my teeth into".

Neso nodded. "Anything specific?"

Whirr. Whirr. The humming of the drive being set up always made Persis feel at ease-it was something familiar, something she knew. Hearing it was like coming home and hearing the voice of someone you know, she thought.

Clamp in. Programme up.

Persis opened her eyes. She stood at the entrance of a long corridor. Glass cabinets filled with various historical and valuable artefacts lined the walls. Some individual pillar-like cabinets were free standing at points around the centre of each section of 

the corridor. She noticed a pair of fingerless gloves lying on top of one of them.

"Smash and grab, huh, Neso". 

The doors at the end of the corridor opened and a hooded figure stepped into the light.

Persis put the gloves on.

"Want me to use my fists or did you include weapons in this?"

In answer to her question the corridor screened itself off with authentic looking Chinese screens with dragons on them. Then the screens disappeared. Persis looked at the walls, now hung with almost every sharp weapon known to man. Mostly Oriental blades and staffs. Persis bounded onto the wall. Defying gravity, she stood at a right angle on the vertical surface while she selected a weapon.

It was a long, dark wooden pole similar to a kendo staff. Possibly mahogany. Inserted in the grooves of the wood were lines of metal. Iron. So that was why it was heavier than she expected. At the end of the pole was a wickedly sharp blade, slightly curved like a sabre, but with a width to its middle more like a cutlass, ending in a finely honed point. An elegant blade, she admired. She dropped to the floor.

Twirling the pole expertly, Persis spun it in front of her and tossed it spinning above 

her head before catching it , crouched in a low stance, the pole held above and behind her, the blade almost touching the marble floor. She remained in this position, one 

leg stretched out parallel to the pole. She looked up, a challenging look in her eyes.

Persis waited.

The figure removed its hood and lifted its head up. Your average training programme opponent. Typical warrior character. Nondescript hair, menacing eyes, a scowl on his face and scarred profile.

Persis tilted her head up in acknowledgement.

The warrior ran to meet her. She remained crouched till he came within centimetres of her, his broadsword swinging down in a deep stroke to slice her in two. Persis swung the pole round and swinging upwards, blocked his stroke with her blade. The clash of metal rang in the stillness. Persis sprang up and twirled the pole round expertly, swiping at the warrior's stomach as he backed away, fending off the vicious sweep of the blade.

He lifted his sword arm up to strike again. Persis crouched low and stabbed at his legs. The blade impaled his ankle. She drew it out quickly, toying with him. The warrior examined the blood seeping out onto the floor in a small pool. He gave an ear piercing war cry and swung his sword at her unprotected ankles. Persis jumped and the sword struck the marble, shattering into large slivers of metal. Persis hit the floor with the flat end of the pole and holding onto it sideways by her hands, kicked out at the warrior with both legs in the air. He staggered back and Persis skilfully whipped the pole round, dropped on her knee in one fluid movement and plunged it blade first into his chest, her free hand held out to her side to steady herself.

Persis gripped the pole in both hands and lifted the warrior up by it, throwing him over her head in a wide arc. He broke away from the blade from the momentum of the swing and slid across the smooth floor in a heap of robes and blood. Persis tossed the pole backwards, did a backwards somersault and rose up to catch the pole again in her hand.

"Too easy, Neso".

The warrior got up. Persis raised an eyebrow. His exterior quivered and shattered like pane of glass, revealing a lithe black clad woman ninja. Persis leapt up to avoid the spray of spiked ninja stars the woman flicked out at her.

Turning in the air, Persis landed on the side of a wall, again defying the rules of gravity. The ninja did likewise, tensed to spring on the column opposite. 

Like birds in flight they took off at each other.

Persis pirouetted in the air, her weapon held out at a right angle from her body, spinning in a protective ring around her. The ninja took out a length of chain and lassoed the pole.

They dropped to the floor, the chain wrapped out the pole. The ninja tugged violently, but Persis, anticipating the action, let the force pull her as well. She slid to the floor, her legs straight out in front of her, and, on her back under the ninja, pushed her feet into the ninja's stomach and, lifting her above her in an aeroplane like move, pulled her weapon, point first downwards. The blade scratched the floor by her ear as Persis loosened one hand to viciously punch her opponent's throat in, and the ninja landed, ungraciously on the floor behind Persis' head.

Persis brought her feet up to her chin, and sprang upright via a perfect Chinese flip. Turning, she watched the ninja's hand slip from her bruised throat and go limp.

This time, Persis expected the change. The ninja morphed into a long haired, long robed figure. Still in black. Persis drew herself up into a preparatory stance, one leg bent at the knee, the foot balanced on the knee of her other leg. One arm held out behind her, set at a right angle, her palm pushing the air. The other holding out the pole, blade first at her opponent's neck. 

The figure moved. Persis lunged forward, dropping onto both feet, the questing point of her blade darting at the figure's throat and face.

Quite unexpectedly, the figure drew out a small vial from its robe and, throwing it on the floor, promptly vanished.

Persis blinked. Then, an invisible force that she assumed was a fist hit her square in the ribs, then kicking her upwards, spinning and knocking her down, slightly winded. 

Her eyes narrowed.

Sol wandered over to Neso, who sat back in his chair, surveying the ongoing carnage and voicing his approve with occasional chuckles and whoops. Sol leaned over his 

shoulder.

"Neso".

The operator practically jumped. 

"Sir!"

Sol smiled knowingly. "How is she doing?"

Recovered, Neso wiped his brow and elaborated. "She's surpassed my expectations, anyway, sir-that programme has been the thorn in everyone's side since I wrote it, and she's moving through it like its a fairground attraction".

Sol nodded as if he had expected the outcome.

"I'd like to do a little training too, Neso".

Springing up, Persis bounced from one wall to the opposite one. Balancing cooly on the far wall on one foot, she leaned over and removed a scarf of material tied to the hilt of an ornate sword. Holding her weapon under one arm, she tied the scarf around her head, covering her eyes. Then, securing the knot, leapt blindly from the wall and landed on the floor, the marble rippling around her. 

Persis stood silently, and slowly circled the room with her unseeing eyes.

Then, as if hearing an imperceptible sound, perhaps a whisper of material, a rustle of garment, she whirled around, and fiercely stabbing the air first in four points, lunged the blade into the centre of the invisible cross she had outlined and swung it around with some effort at one of the free standing glass display cabinets.

As if hit by a large, invisible flying object, the glass shattered on impact and the shelves in it collapsed. Slowly, the robed figure became visible, lying crumpled in a heap amidst the broken glass.

Persis removed the scarf from her head and smiled, looking upwards.

"Thanks for that, Neso".

A metallic sound behind her made her whip around and slash downwards.

Sol blocked her swipe with an upward stroke of his short pike.

In surprise, Persis paused, mid swing.

Sol took advantage of her temporary shock and cut slyly upwards at the middle of her 

weapon with a small dagger, cutting some way into the middle of the pole.

Persis cartwheeled backwards to examine the damage.

Frowning at the cut, Persis savagely broke the pole in two over her knee and held up the two pieces, one with a smoothly pointed blade, the other with a splintered end, a fusion of iron and wood.

She raised one knee up and brandished the implements defiantly.

Sol looked at the floor momentarily, laughing quietly as he did so.

He felt a sensation like a rushing wind in both his ears.

Sol opened his eyes to find himself pinned to a wall by his shoulders. The fabric of his shirt was neatly pierced by the two sharp points of Persis' weapons. He could feel the blade and the keen edge of wood rub against his skin. He expelled a loud breath in shock at the speed and accuracy of the attack.

Persis relaxed. She walked over, and kicking up Sol's discarded pike, tossed it at him. He reached out and caught it, still pinned to the wall. Persis approached him and yanked the fragments of her weapon out of the wall. Sol straightened, rubbing his shoulders as if to make sure they were still intact.

"I take it surprise is the most effective form of attack, huh?" Sol ruefully grinned.

Persis blinked, at a loss. Hearing Smith's words from Sol's mouth made them sound disembodied.

"It is".

"Someone teach you that?"

"Yes, not so long ago", Persis walking slowly away now.

"Well, it looks like they were telling the truth."

Persis turned back to Sol and made to speak. No words came. She looked upwards and continued walking to the door.

"End programme".

* * * * * * *


	9. Development In A Motel Room

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**9. Development In A Motel Room.**

The train hurtled past the station, crammed full of passengers. Those waiting on the platform exclaimed in exasperation. Some walked away, out of the subway, up the stairs to the welcoming daylight.

Persis sat on a bench, casually slumped, for all appearances looking like she was reading a newspaper.

She wasn't.

Her eyes flickered above the lenses of her sunglasses. The 4:15 train had gone past its station, as predicted. She sighed and stood up, folding the newspaper up and dropping it on the seat. She waited for the next train with baited breath.

Smith would be on it.

She shouldn't have done it. She shouldn't have gone back in the Matrix to contact him. He had been different that time-impassive, cool, but with an undertone of vulnerability that she could almost taste. Persis wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Anyway, they'd arranged to meet-it was too late to back out now. The Apollo was in safe territory-no sentinels had been in that area for months, it wasn't as if she was 

risking anyone's lives by being there. Not like before, she thought with a wince. 

A screeching noise. The next train pulled up at the station with a groan. The doors opened. Passengers seeped out of the carriages. Persis waited her turn to board the nearest carriage. She looked around for a seat. On finding there were none available, she hooked a hand around an overhead leash and stood, lightly swaying with the moving train. 

The door at the end of the carriage opened quietly, but enough to make her look round. Smith emerged soundlessly and scanning the carriage, walked up to her, but remaining a neutral distance away, holding onto a rail, adjusting his tie.

Persis smiled to herself.

The train pulled up at the next station. All the passengers got off. Smith waited until only he and Persis remained in the carriage before taking her arm in his and leading her out of the subway.

Neso called.

Persis picked up, "It's okay Neso. Everything's okay".

"Where are you being taken?" Neso sounded worried-rightly so, watching a captain being strongarmed by an agent wasn't normally something an operator would take lightly.

"I don't know. But I'll be fine. I swear. It's only one, not three like last time, Neso".

"You go kick his ass then Captain".

"Hmm".

Smith looked at her as she replaced the phone.

"Miss. Carlisle?"

"Don't worry, Smith, I told them not to wait up for me".

They crossed the street and got into a black sedan. Smith was driving. Eyes on the road, hands in the precise driving position. Persis relaxed in the seat next to him.

"What do you want, Smith?".

The agent turned round a narrow street corner before answering.

"To find the answer to my question, Miss. Carlisle".

"And what question is that?"

Smith paused and reversed the car into an alleyway.

"You know the question".

Persis looked out the window. Yes, she knew the question. Could Smith reciprocate want completely, or was his 'emotion' just psychological, something that would never be enacted. She knew he had set up a communications block. She could feel it. Persis removed her sunglasses and dropped them in her pocket. Smith wasn't the only one who had changed. Her residual self image had undergone a subtle, but nevertheless significant transformation. The kimono had become a thing of the past, the old Persis, and had been replaced with a white shirt. And a cream silk tie. Androgyny had never looked so stylish, Persis smiled. But it was also a sign of her changing, becoming more agent like, embracing her new self. At least she had it under control, for now.

They got out and entered the back door of a motel, climbing the steps to one of the rows of rooms. Smith opened the blue door to let her in. Persis halted.

"I want something more from you".

She raised an eyebrow at his remark. "More what?"

"More of the ability to reciprocate your emotions".

She hadn't expected this so soon. "Are you sure?"

Smith smiled. "Always".

Persis nodded. She placed her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs resting on his mouth. She concentrated. Then she let the power at her fingertips flow from her to him. A brief but powerful stream of light surrounded them as they stood motionless. Then it disappeared. Smith pulled back and ran a finger over his lips, his other hand pressed against the wall to support himself. He swayed slightly.

"You alright?" Persis asked.

Smith didn't answer. Leading her inside the room, he slammed the door behind them and enveloped her in an all consuming kiss. Persis raised her arms around his neck and pulled him in even closer. Smith placed his hands round her waist. They moved slowly backwards. Persis stopped and broke away from him, looking behind her at the bed. 

Smith turned her face towards him questioningly. "The emotion has-developed" he said in a low voice as if he just realised it.

Persis dropped her shoulders as the realisation hit her. She saw the undisguised craving in his eyes. Want had given way and become need. Silently she unbuttoned his jacket and let it fall to the carpet. She removed her coat. Walking round to the foot of the bed she led Smith round. He looked different without his stiff jacket; he looked more relaxed, more-human. Sitting down on the mattress, she took in his features, his eyes hard but almost glittering with a longing to find the answer to his question. Without hesitating, she gently grasped his tie and slowly pulled him down towards her to let him find it.

* * * * * * *

The lilac hue of evening stole across the sky, catching the glints of closing windows in the apartment buildings and offices. It flickered on the pane of glass in the window of the motel room. Smith sat on the edge of the mattress, adjusting his tie pin. Persis stood by the dressing table, donning her coat in the mirror. She was about to pick up her sunglasses when she noticed him looking at her.

"Well".

Smith stopped fiddling with the pin. "Persis-"

She straightened in surprise. "You've never called me that before".

Smith nodded. He gestured for her to come over. She left the sunglasses on the table and walked over. Smith took her hands in his mechanically and pulled her nearer. Persis slid onto his knees. He looked at her fiercely.

"I want you to stay with me".

Persis toyed with his collar, "You know I can't".

"You can exist as human and semi-agent in and out of the matrix. Why not stay in it?"

"Because I chose to be unplugged. I chose to be shown the real world. I'm still plugged into it on the ship."

"Did you _choose_ to want me?"

The silence grew.

"No. That happened by itself".

Smith made as if to get up. Persis rose with him. "I can't risk their lives".

"You've already risked your own by being here. You're already changing".

"Did _you choose _to reciprocate my emotion?"

Smith handed her her glasses. "Not at first. Then I chose to".

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to know what it was like to feel it".

Persis studied her face in the mirror, Smith's reflection behind her. She squinted at the image. Then she blinked.

It was then that she realised that her eyes had turned a deep shade of blue. Her gaze shifted to Smith's face. She realised it then. Her eyes were the same as his. The same shade, the same coldness with barely noticeable warmth. The same mercenary stare. 

She was turning into an agent.

Persis called the Apollo.

"Operator".

"You alright, sir?"

"Yeah. You got an exit for me?"

"Yup-it's a phone box in the subway station you were in earlier".

"Thanks".

"How was the fight?"

Persis looked at Smith.

"Perfect".

She put the glasses on and paused. Smith took her hand in his tightly.

"Let me go, Smith". Persis realised her voice was trembling.

Smith put his dark glasses on, one-handed.

"I'll let you go now. You'll be back, Miss. Carlisle", his voice took on its normal, metallic tone, "and I'll be in the vicinity when you choose to do so".

Persis turned. She could sense his eyes following her to the door. She knew that even if Smith had the ability to want her, need her, to gain pleasure from her, he did not have the ability to love her. Yet, somehow, this was comfort enough. The image of him pressing his face to her neck and the solid warmth of his arms wrapped firmly round her, his palms pressing into her back flashed before her. Their skin touching. She could almost hear his heavy, jagged breathing in her ears. Persis got into the phone box. 

It was then that she realised she was smiling broadly, and that tears were running down her face.


	10. Finding Out What's Real

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**10. Finding Out What's Real.**

She sat up and found Neso looking at her fearfully. Titus stood, unsure of himself, next to the monitor above her, still holding the clamp. She wiped her moist eyes. Sol stood a little way in front of Neso, his arms folded, his face like a thundercloud.

She slowly rose from the chair and turned to where Neso's gaze was being distracted. On the monitor above her was a freeze frame of the damning image.

Smith and herself locked to one another.

Persis turned to look at Sol. They'd been watching the whole time. Thinking back, she realised. The communications block must have lifted while she and Smith-

She looked at Sol. Fury, plain fury blazed at her from his eyes. He stepped forward menacingly.

"What the HELL did you think you were doing, _Captain_?"

Persis warily stood up as the lie left her lips, "I was attempting to win one of the agents over to us to ensure that-"

"THE HELL YOU WERE!" Sol shouted.

Persis gave up the pretence, " Smith's different, he's developing human characteristics, he's capable of feeling an emotion just like a person-"

"A PERSON?? HE'S NOT A PERSON, GODDAMMIT PERSIS HE'S A MACHINE, A GODDAMN MACHINE DESIGNED TO KILL US ALL AND YOU-YOU WERE-"

Sol spluttered, unable to finish his sentence due to total incomprehension of her actions.

Persis defended him, yes, she thought, even here, "That's not true-he's not wired in anymore, he doesn't work in conjunction with the other agents or the construct, he has EMOTION, SOL, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?"

Sol muttered before drawing a bead.

Persis' face was a mask of torment-and...love. And he couldn't stand it.

Sol punched her brutally in the face. Persis fell to her knees on the cold metal floor. Slowly getting up, she looked at him, blood trickling from her lip. Titus made as if to help her up. She waved him away with a hand, her eyes acknowledging his kind 

gesture of help.

She lashed out at Sol with the back of her right fist, sending him flying into the solid pipe on the far wall. He looked at her, momentarily in a daze.

Then Sol exploded.

"HE CAN'T LOVE YOU PERSIS!!"

"HE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THE FIRST UNABLE TO EITHER!!" she screamed back in a terrible voice.

Sol looked abashed, "Persis, I-"

Feeling the tears welling up in her eyes, Persis marched to her cabin and slammed the door . The ship floated before her as the tears suffused her vision.

The secret was out.

* * * * * * *

Days had passed in heavy silence on the Apollo. Her crew were stolid and yet everything carried on as normal. Titus and Neso were often found talking in low voice in the engine room.

They talked mainly about Persis.

Neso and Titus liked her. They admired her bravery, her fighting prowess, her 

strength in accepting everything that had happened to her. She was a great captain, this they knew from the Antigone. No crew, no matter how brave, would have waited for their captain to get to an exit for_ that_ long, in the face of _that _much danger, if their captain were not worth half the trouble. She had pulled her weight on the Apollo too, manning the tail guns along side the rank and file crew members and volunteering to deliver messages to the drop off points to notify Zion. She was, as Titus frankly put it, one of the guys, one of the old school. 

"He shouldn't have hit her".

"I know".

Titus massaged a stiff wrist, his tough, honest face wrinkling in a frown. "I don't care if its in the Matrix or a sparring programme or whatever. Even if she was as tough or tougher than him; you just don't hit a woman."

Neso sighed reluctantly. "Can't do anything 'bout it now".

"How is he?"

"Captain's been in his cabin for the last three days. No-one's seen him at all. He's just running on plain fury right now".

"Captain Persis?"

Neso wiped his brow. "She's just retracted into herself, man, it's like nothing around her exists anymore".

Titus nodded understandingly, "Well, nothing does, really."

Neso looked up questioningly.

"Well, look at her situation, Neso; her ship's destroyed, all her crew are dead, she's practically-well, she should really be dead instead of running around right now..nothing she earned for herself in the real world exists anymore. The only thing that's real now is-"

"The agent".

"Yeah".


	11. Confidantes and Captains

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**11. Confidantes and Captains.**

Neso and Titus crept as quietly as they could to Persis' cabin. Neso scratched softly on the door. A muffled, quiet voice from within answered them.

"Who is it?"

"It's us, Captain-me and Titus. Can we come in?"

The door opened slightly. Titus entered first, Neso second, checking the ship for any sign of movement. Especially from Sol's cabin.

Neso shut the door. Persis sat on her bunk, her hands clasped in her lap. Her appearance was immaculate but she looked tired. Shadows were forming under her eyes.

"We just wanted you to know that we-kinda sympathise with you, Captain", the words left Titus' mouth.

Persis looked up at him and smiled, if a little wearily.

"Thank you Titus. You-both of you have been so kind to me. I don't know how to thank you".

Neso shrugged the compliment off, "Forget it-we just thought you should know that, if you wanted to talk about-anything, well, me and Titus-"

Persis cut him off with a shake of her head, "Forgive me for being judgemental, but I don't think you know what its like for me at the moment".

Neso sat down in the chair next to the bunk. "Actually, I think I do".

Persis looked up at him through her hands.

"My best friend-he was a rebel fighter like you-with the-", Neso pointed awkwardly at the holes in her arms, "-anyway, he spent a lot of time in the Matrix too, like you do, and he used to sit in his cabin after every time he came out. He used to say that the Matrix was the only real thing he had ever known, and that even when he was in the real world and saw the sentinels and the fields of human beings, he dismissed it as a bad dream he hoped he'd wake up from".

Persis nodded. Not the same situation exactly, but close enough.

"So, he used to stay in the Matrix as long as he could, each time. It got so bad that the captain of his ship ensured that he wasn't allowed back in. He sent him back to Zion, 

to recover and rest..but-" Neso's voice faltered.

Titus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Neso patted the hand gratefully.

"-he just wasn't the same. A few weeks later he-killed himself, cos he couldn't take it anymore".

Persis reached over and took his hand in hers. "I'm so sorry, Neso".

The admirable operator nodded, "Anyway, me and Titus don't want to see you go the same way, because even if you do-_love_-the agent, he's still dangerous, and I don't mean for us..we can take care of ourselves, but for you. Captain's angry-worse than I ever seen him before..we just thought you should know".

Persis exhaled. Standing up, she took their hands in hers.

"Thank you, Neso, Titus. I didn't want for anyone else to get dragged into this...but-", 

her voice became steady and calm, "I want you to do something for me".

The two looked at each other.

"If I'm in the Matrix and it endangers _anyone's_ and I mean _anyone's_ lives on this ship, then I want you to pull the plug on me".

Neso dropped his hand. "I can't promise that, Captain".

Persis' face took on a look of acute suffering,"Please. I'm asking you to do this for me. I don't want anyone to hesitate if and when the situation arises. Just cut the cord. Spare me another experience like the one I've already had".

They stared at her calm face, now changed, not revealing a single emotion. Both nodded.

"Thank you-you'd better go, I don't want you to get into trouble with Sol, sincerely I don't".

They made for the door. Titus swung his head back before closing it.

"He still shouldn't have hit you".

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Persis smiled. "Thank you Titus, it's nice to know that someone cares".

* * * * * * *

Sol paced his cabin like a man possessed. It wasn't right, it just wasn't-natural..Persis, ..with _an agent?_

He'd pondered, obsessed over the issue for the past few days. How could you even 

begin to..even.._like_ a- he shook his head, exasperated. He just couldn't understand why she had done..what she'd done. Grudgingly, he admitted that each time she's been in the Matrix the ship had been in safe territory, away from the usual haunts of the sentinels. He couldn't use "risking the crew's lives", as an excuse for his actions.

He shouldn't have hit her.

But he had. It made him feel nauseous, physically sick to see her defending an agent, a programme designed to kill all rebels and keep mankind enslaved, alleging that it had feelings, that it could reciprocate emotion. His crew didn't seem to think on the 

same wavelength.

His crew..oh God, what had he done? They had taken immediately to Persis from the moment she had consciously set foot on the deck of the Apollo. Everyone seemed to 

get along with her except him. Despite her aloofness, her silent phases, she had won their respect for her deeds with and before she had joined the crew of the Apollo. 

Damn her, he thought. She wants to go in the Matrix, she wants to see her agent again, then she'll go. And it'll look like she's endangering my life if I tag along, Sol viciously thought. His plan formed quickly in his heated mind. Force her back in the Matrix. Go in with her. The agent was bound to attack him, a rebel fighter, and then Persis would be in the wrong. He'd destroy the agent. He'd have his crew's respect and trust back. He could handle one agent, he thought ambitiously.

Down the corridor, Persis slept uneasily, as if she knew the events that the next day would bring.

* * * * * * *


	12. Fallen

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**12. Fallen.**

Smith walked casually down the street, admiring the architecture, the intricate detail of the simulated world around him. He was strangely at ease. He hadn't been on his usual carnage run lately. He had run into other, new agents. Some he'd cloned into himself, some he hadn't. More often it was the latter. The same with unplugged humans. He'd stood back a few times and let other, less superior agents, he thought smugly, try to deal with them. More often he thought of Persis.

Persis. She had changed him. He could still taste her mouth on his, feel the smooth surface of her skin on his and hear her breath being drawn from her in low gasps. He could still feel her hands on his face, her palms on his shoulder blades. The texture of her hair as she flicked it out from under the collar of her trenchcoat. If he had done so with her before she had imprinted her emotion on his conscious the satisfaction would have been one sided. Now, it was different. He could recall every single event, every movement, and with these recollections came...feelings. He had found himself almost breathless one day just thinking of it. Want. Need. He wanted Persis now more than ever. He was no longer as disgusted with himself for making such intimate contact with a human as he had been originally -well, semi-human. Persis was still part of him. Yet Smith was beginning to like her human aspects as well, of late, though he had neglected to mention this to her.

His powers and fighting prowess had not dimmed as a result. Rather, he fought with greater readiness, challenging his opponents to new heights, crushing them with greater speed. None of them made him feel as alive as he had when he fought Persis. None of them except one, before her.

Thomas A. Anderson. Neo.

He grimaced at the thought of that human still travelling around the world, in and out of the Matrix on a whim. He would deal with him eventually. He had killed him once. He had watched him die. He could do the same again.

He ran over a conversation he'd had with Persis before she'd left the motel.

"Smith".

"Correct".

"Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Silence in a small room.

"I'm a rebel fighter, Smith, I'm still partly human-"

"Only partly."

"So that's the worst part of me as far as you're concerned?", the notion building anger in her normally calm voice.

"You must see that the agent aspects you have are part of what fascinates me".

"So you tolerate me _in spite _of my "human faults", then?"

He registers the growing volume in her voice as a display of temper. He didn't have an answer to that question, yet.

"Fuck you, Smith".

His reply to that harsh insult came in the form of an equally harsh kiss. Persis grew serious.

"Seriously. If I continued foiling the Mainframe's plans to wipe out humanity, would you kill me?"

He reached over to the chair on which hung his holster. He lifted the gun out and pointed it at her head as they lay facing each other. His other hand wavered but the trigger hand stayed rigid as the barrel sat level with her forehead.

"Quite readily, I can assure you".

"Cute, Smith, real cute", unafraid and unconvinced she closed her eyes.

He lowered the gun and replaced it in the holster, willing himself to refrain from apologising.

It seemed absurd when he thought of it, but he had to admit it was true. When they had occupied that motel room he had felt free, if only for a little while. In Persis he forgot the oppression of the Matrix, his hatred for every moment he spent in it. In Persis he had discovered new territories, a place where he could rest, pause without the ever burgeoning desire to escape. Persis had given him the opportunity to find out the extent of his emotional abilities. He had discovered what fulfilling a want felt like. She had given him solace. She had given him an answer.

And he had given her purpose. Purpose, and a closeness he had never shared or wanted to share with anyone or anything else before. 

A simple, but extremely beneficial exchange, Smith mused. He looked forward to their next meeting. Absentmindedly he ran his hand over the top of a low mesh fence and stopped suddenly. From the centre of his palm oozed, thick and dark, a firm drop of blood-simulated, yes, but still blood, which travelled slowly down to his wrist. Slight pain. In silent shock the agent studied the wound and wondered how much Persis was beginning to affect him. He had never bled before. And it was such a small scratch. Was this what being human was like? Experiencing pain at the slightest wound and scarring at the first cut?

* * * * * * *

Persis heard the clang of the door first. Then a burning sensation in her scalp and a thud as she hit the floor.

Sol dragged her by the hair on the main deck and to the chair. Pushing her into it, he called for the rest of the crew.

Titus appeared from the upper deck. Neso came round the corner, a glass of water in his hand. He put it down on the floor on seeing Persis struggling with Sol's grasp on her hair. Her eyes were watering from the pain.

Sol seemed distracted by them. He released her hair from his fist and stared at her in mingled surprise and horror.

"Why are your eyes _blue_?", he growled.

Persis turned away. So the changes were apparent in the real world, too. Soon the rest of the crew appeared; Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the others. 

"Neso-set up the signal, we're going in!" Sol boomed.

Unwillingly, Neso sat down at his station and began to do his job.

"Titus, set _Captain_ Persis up-she's going in-while you're at it, you can clamp me in too. I'm joining her".

Titus paused for a second too long.

"GODDAMMIT TITUS WHOSE SHIP DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ON??"

Persis silently nodded her assent; a look of resignation on her face. Reluctantly, Titus got the monitors ready.

Sol settled back in the seat. Now, he thought, now they'll see what Persis will do to see her agent.

Whirr. Whirr. This time the sound of the computers only set Persis on edge.

She opened her eyes. She stood on top of a skyscraper. A boisterous wind buffeted her coat, its tail ends flapping against her legs. Sol stood some feet away from her like a malevolent demon, watching her every move.

Persis sighed,"Sol, this is pointless and useless. What are you going to prove?"

Sol remained moodily silent. 

In a flash, Persis leapt the height of three storeys and landed on the office block opposite Sol. She scanned the horizon as she always did. She could feel Smith approaching the building with every passing second. She had to get out of the Matrix. But that would be impossible as long as Sol remained with her.

Smith took the lift. On reaching the top floor, he opened the hatch door to come onto the roof. He saw Persis first but had acknowledged the other human before he even 

opened the door.

Sol jumped, willing himself forward harder than he had ever done. He landed near Persis.

"Get away from him, Persis!" he shouted, waving his arm excitedly. The crew can't hear what I'm saying, he thought. It'll look like I'm trying to defend her.

Persis looked at him in surprise. Smith stepped closer to her. 

Sol leapt between them, brandishing a katana. He didn't draw the guns he had hidden beneath his jacket. He wouldn't draw them yet.

He struck at Smith, who avoided him easily. Persis grabbed Sol by the arm and kicked him in the chest sending him back a pace or two. 

"I wouldn't do that Sol", she warned.

"Why?" Sol spat, "are you going to get in the way of my fighting him?"

"Yes".

Yes, Persis, yes. Attack me. Make me the victim, Sol thought heatedly. He couldn't take looking at her anymore, now that she gazed at the world with an agent's eyes.

Persis slowly drew herself into a stance resignedly. Then, she flipped forward at him alarmingly quickly, her feet kicking at the air, and then ducked his swipes at her head. They battled urgently, Persis seeking to knock Sol down if only to delay him turning his attention to Smith. If he did that, she reasoned grimly, he would die quicker than I can kill him. 

Sol slashed the katana at her stomach. Following the blade in its swing, Persis slid her hands, prayer like, over the sides and, yanking downwards, brought her leg up to the sword and stamped down on the blade, snapping it in two. Sol in desperation tripped her up. Persis fell backwards, Sol wielding the broken katana and plunging for her heart.

Smith felt a twinge when Persis hit the floor. Walking forward, he drew out his gun and slowly took aim. This human wasn't worthy of fighting her with his sly tricks and arrogant manner. He shouldn't be fighting her.

Persis rolled away. She saw Smith approaching in the reflection of Sol's sunglasses. She cartwheeled away from Sol, and, leaping into the air, landed on top of Smith, her legs wrapped around his waist as he stood motionless.

"Please Smith, don't".

The agent looked bemused, "You want to waste your time fighting such an unsavoury opponent?"

Her gaze dropped to the palm that flexed momentarily. There was a dark red scab in the centre of it. Agents don't scar, she thought dully. Why has Smith -

"Smith, don't-"

Over her shoulder Smith saw Sol draw out his guns and aim them at Persis' unprotected back. He threw Persis away from him. She landed expertly, rolling until she stopped at the corner of the roof.

Sol fired repeatedly. Smith dodged the bullets without moving his feet, his upper body twisting in almost impossible angles at once. He briefly smiled at the uselessness of the human's attack. It was only when Sol threw away one of his guns and pulling out another one, began to fire at the ground near where Persis crouched, weapon less, did the smile straighten into a determined scowl.

"No".

Persis jumped from one foot to the next, twisting mid air, avoiding the ricochet of bullets that sprang up from the surface beneath her. She was moving further to the edge of the roof with every shot. Giving up her normal dodging techniques, she let every muscle in her body relax and stood rooted to the ground, her upper body swaying and avoiding the bullets. Agent style. She was slowly giving in to it.

Smith noticed and turned momentarily in her direction as she swayed to avoid the darting bullets aimed to cripple her.

The temporary lapse of concentration was all Sol needed.

He fired a single shot at Smith while he stood looking out for Persis.

The bullet seemed to cut through the air in slow motion from the barrel of the gun towards Smith's distracted figure.

Persis noticed. She noticed Smith wasn't aware of the incoming shot. She had noticed the look of mild concern in his face as he watched her dodge the flying bullets as they rebounded off the grit. Persis went cold. Oh God it's affected him too he's becoming human Smith's becoming human more vulnerable what have I done-

She sprang up and started to run towards Smith. 

Persis raced the bullet as it travelled to the same point she did.

Titus glanced at Persis' still form as she lay hooked up to the console. He took a step back in disbelief and looked over at Neso who sat with his back to them, analysing the screens.

"Neso-"

"Not now, Titus". Neso waved a hand dismissively.

"Neso-I think you should take a look at this".

Neso whirled around in his chair and glanced at Persis. His mouth opened slightly.

Persis' hair was changing. The roots and tips of her jet black hair were fluctuating in colour. Gradually they seeped downwards, transforming her black hair into a neutral brown. As the colour reached the tips, her braids loosened themselves and her dark waves separated into poker straight strands. Persis lay still, her eyes closed, her hair now completely brown and completely straight.

"What's happening, Neso?"

Neso went slightly paler than usual, "She's turning into an agent".

Running so fast that Sol only saw a white blur cross the roof Persis grabbed Smith by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him backwards off the edge of the roof.

Sol lowered his gun in disbelief.

Neso watched the events unfold on several screens. Titus stood watchful over Persis' form like a benevolent guardian angel. He glanced at her monitor.

"Oh shit", he exhaled.


	13. Persis Takes Back The Gift

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**13. Persis Takes Back The Gift.**

Smith and Persis fell from the roof locked together. Spinning wildly as they plummeted to the busy streets below Persis lost her grip on Smith and she fell alone, above Smith as they plunged ever downwards.

"Shoot me".

Persis shook her head as she felt her speed increasing.

"Shoot me, and I'll catch you.", Smith's face was calm though the wind buffeted it.

He drew out his gun and tossed it upwards effortlessly. It hit her shoulder and she grabbed onto it. Shaking off her shades, falling head over heels, Persis steadied herself, plummeting head first and fired twice. 

Green lightning crackled over Smith. Persis collided with the dead weight of the body as the street rushed up to greet her. She pushed it aside desperately.

"_Shit_".

She could see the individual people walking on the street below. She couldn't move now, she wouldn't land safely. Persis closed her eyes for the inevitable.

Smith stopped mid walk on the street level and looked upwards. He held his arms out expectantly. Persis promptly fell into them, forcing him to kneel on the pavement with the force of the drop. The concrete slab at his feet cracked in two.

Smith rose slowly.

Titus and Neso were undecided.

"You know what she said about endangering anyone on the ship?"

"Yeah, but she's in the Matrix now".

"And so's the Captain".

"Should we-"

"Give it five minutes and then we'll have to".

Persis winced in pain and slung an arm round Smith's neck, flicking off his glasses. "Smith-the emotion..its made you vulnerable-you weren't concentrating on-", her voice trailed off.

Smith suddenly felt a warm, flowing liquid seep through his jacket sleeve.

Persis was bleeding.

Smith re-ran the sequence of events on the roof. Persis had raced the bullet to him, and she'd got there first. But she'd been in front of him for a fraction of a second as she pushed him off the roof.

Persis had taken the bullet meant for him.

Smith stared at his hand which he'd pulled out from under Persis' back. It was soaked in her blood.

Smith marvelled again at the pigment's rich, dark colour.

Then he carried her to a empty side street with a curious empty feeling growing in 

him with every step of the way.

Smith laid her down on the side of the road. Persis gasped for breath, a dark flower of blood blossoming across her back and seeping round her chest. 

"Your breathing is becoming laboured".

Persis unsuccessfully mustered a withering look at him, which turned into another grimace.

"Thank you. Your powers of observation have obviously not dimmed".

Smith kneeled beside her and propped her up with his arm, holding her to his chest. Persis grasped at his tie.

"-Smith,...I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Sorry for what?"

"I shouldn't have done...I've made you vulnerable by giving you-"

Smith grasped her wrist firmly in his. Her pulse, he noticed, was growing weaker, harder to detect.

"You've given me a_ gift_, Persis. It's changed me, changed the fundamental way I operate".

Persis cried out softly as the bullet inched its way to her heart.

"It's a shame-I have to take it back."

Before he could stop her, Persis immersed her fingertips into his shirt and gradually drained him of the want that had become need. She drained his ability to reciprocate what she had given him, emotion flowing back into her in trickles.

"Do me a favour Smith". Her eyes were so blue now, he noticed.

"What?"

Persis grimly held back tears, "Don't lose your purpose-I'd wandered aimlessly without knowing why I was here and you-you-"

He clasped her hand in his mechanically. He somehow understood the sentiment.

Persis smiled weakly through the pain and stretched her neck up to him. The pool of blood around her grew in diameter. Smith pressed his face to hers in an attempt at comfort he didn't know how to give, strands of her newly brown hair brushing his eyelids, feeling oddly detached from the slender body in his embrace.

Persis exhaled and went frighteningly limp.

The monitor above Persis' body bleeped electronically and her heart rate dropped into a flat line. Titus looked down sadly at her peaceful form. Neso looked over from the screens and cursed under his breath. 

Smith looked down at her. Her eyes were glazed over, freezing the look of anguish and love she had gazed at him with out of her now ice cold blue eyes.

She had released him. She had returned him to his previous self.

A Smith. Impenetrable. Machine. Void of emotion. 

Empty.

"I tolerated you _because_ of your human traits, as opposed to in spite of them".

It seemed pointless to say it after she'd – died. But the agent said it anyway, without really knowing why. Maybe it was some residue of weakness left in him. Maybe not. Search running. Result: inconclusive.

Smith withdrew his arms from under her and Persis slipped onto the ground. If he had seen her from above, he would have seen the tails of her coat spread out under her like wings, her blood staining her tunic a lustrous red.

Persis. Still fatally human.

Enigmatic. Powerful. Beautiful. 

Dead.


	14. A Taste Of Freedom To Come

**NOTICE: **I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. **HOWEVER:** I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.****

**AHA-**Nearly had you thinking that "Persis Takes Back The Gift" was the last chapter in this fanfic, didn't I??

The first chapters of the sequel may be up as soon a tonight, if I have time…Morithil.

**14. A Taste Of Freedom To Come.**

It didn't seem right to take her back to Zion. She had never been at ease there in life, and in death it seemed unfair to tie her down in a place she had never loved. The Apollo cruised back to the site of the Antigone's destruction.

They laid Persis, Captain of the Antigone in a metal casket made from an old oversized oxygen tank and by welding various pieces of metal together, ironically a hybrid itself. The idea was to lower it down by the wreck of her ship, near the graves of her faithful crew. 

Sol refused to look at the body. He said that she wouldn't have looked as he wanted to remember her. She would have looked like an agent. 

As the ship pulled towards the wreck Neso turned sadly from the door of Persis' cabin as he cleared it of the sparse items she'd kept in it.

"Rest easy, sir. You're close to what's real now."

* * * * * * *

The agent stepped into the sunlight, surveying the area of the Matrix it was in. The agent was thousands of miles away from where the human had died. It had been a long process, writing this sentient programme; anomalies and other undesirable features had taken a while to eradicate, and this was not entirely successful. Traces of an entity's existence before the agent emerged into the Matrix, wired into the construct, remained in its memory. 

The agent put its regulation sunglasses on. It had brown, straight hair. Regulation blue eyes. The sharp suit. It shook off recurring thoughts regarding a human. A human dying on a side street somewhere. The human being in a state of torment. An agent standing close to the human. A distinctive voice. The agent always felt a twinge of-almost sadness at the thought each time it arose, as if it had been familiar with the human concerned. Impossible. Ridiculous.

No matter.

The agent pressed the ear piece closer, and, on hearing instructions, walked off into the city.

It was not human, and did not "live", it thought.

And yet it existed.

The cloning process that had almost taken place in the interrogation room of a government building had taken hold.

The human was gone.

But the agent? She was fully operational.

********

Smith scanned the city skyline, the rooftops, the office blocks, the phone towers. Nothing.

Smith sighed. The sky had turned a lyrical blue around the steel grey clouds on the horizon. It was beautiful. It wasn't real. The Matrix was designed that way. Thousands of people just living out their lives. It wasn't real. He knew that any moment now the human Neo would enter the Matrix to discuss the impending army of sentinels on the surface of the planet with other rebel leaders. Smith was expecting him anyway. 

Persis. She had enforced, strengthened his singularity of purpose. Her memory, every sensation of contact with her was stored in the cavity where his heart would have been had he been human. There it would remain, the most complex and extensive of the thousands of files in his system. But one that would never be opened again.

Her body had vanished from the street where it had fallen within hours. She was gone.

Smith realised it was growing dark.

When Anderson had effectively destroyed him he had given him something. Without that event there was a high probability that he would have never encountered Persis. He did not quite understand or recall why, but that fact instilled a faint _gratitude _in him. 

He had a gift for Mr. Anderson. 

He hoped he would like it. 

After all, he had set him free.

**.FINIS.**


End file.
